


Power

by Nyxierose



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:46:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavia Blake is running from something... and, at the same time, running TO something.<br/>(Or, the post-apoc AU nobody actually needed with evolving summary and tags because otherwise spoilers.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Power

**Author's Note:**

> Based *loosely* on Revolution. God knows the plot isn't (at least not yet), but the worldbuilding and setup and hopefully the delightfully over-the-top tone... it's a fun little sandbox to put other darlings in.
> 
> Characters and pairings will get added to the tags when they're relevant. Rating will *probably* stay where it is. We'll see what happens.

As soon as she gets the chance, the girl runs.

She's not sure where she's going, only that she can't turn back. There's nothing for her there - there never was, not really, not beneath the desperation that forced her into the Guard in the first place. Most of the others she knew were like her, kids who didn't remember the Before, and while there was a certain community in that shared experience… it wasn't enough.

Nothing is ever quite enough for a girl like her.

She runs and she has no regrets about that set of actions. They won't notice she's gone, she figures. In theory, desertion is punishable by death. In reality, she's not the first to get away with it and she knows damn well that she won't be the last either. It's more of a scene if the person in question liked to cause problems, but she's still never seen anyone get caught and she's seen a lot of things over the last four years. A lot of things she'll never un-see, but not _that_ thing.

Octavia is twenty, and everything in the world has crashed down upon her at once.

She tears at her uniform, shedding what she can as she moves. The boots are nice, better than anything she had before, so those she decides to keep. The jacket, with the sacred symbolism she hates so much, is thrown aside. She's only got a tank top on under it, and she knows she'll get cold, but early September shouldn't be _that_ bad. She'll deal for a couple of days, until she finds something better. She's good at dealing.

The pants are the problem. She can't completely lose them - a woman who looks like she does running around in nothing but underwear and worn leather boots would get attention and not in any sort of way she thinks she wants - but as they are, they _look_ like uniform. A compromise must be made, she decides. She stops for a few moments, sits down on the grass and cuts at them just above her knees. Black is a normal enough color, easy enough to dye, and she looks perfectly ordinary now. Perhaps a little interestingly dressed, but anonymous. Small and vaguely feminine, not visibly armed - she could be anyone, really.

She could be anyone, and after four years of playing by rules she didn't agree with, that's the best feeling in the world.

She starts running again - she's light on her feet, and the training she's had didn't _hurt_ \- and she has no idea when or where she'll stop. There's not much out in this part of the country, and she has no specific direction she wants to go in. She just wants to feel _free_ , be human again.

After another length of time, she stops and takes the knife to her hair. She's kept it long since she was a little girl, but she cuts it at her shoulders and it feels good. Everything feels good right now. Everything feels-

She is running again, and then her body is falling. One wrong step and suddenly she's tumbling down a hill, hitting her head on a few things on the way. By the time her body stops moving, everything hurts and multiple parts of her are bleeding and she's pretty sure she lost her knife at some point and there is no way in hell she's going back up to find it. And everything _hurts_ , and her head is spinning, and-

She blacks out. She's not sure for how long, but it's dark when she opens her eyes again. Dark and… and she's not alone.

There is a person watching her from several feet away, and she knows it before her eyes even fully open. The sensation of another human's eyes on her is something she's learned to identify quickly, but this one doesn't seem threatening. More.. concerned. That's new.

A sharp pain in her head as she fully regains consciousness, another in her thigh as she forces herself into a sitting position. She hisses, curling back into her ball. She is going to die and this _person_ is going to let it happen, she's sure of it.

Except, of course, that they don't.

Silently, they kneel down beside her and try to uncurl her and, for no reason other than that she's fucked regardless, she lets them. She lets them tie a bandage around her leg and press a water bottle to her mouth, she trusts that the water isn't poisoned, she isn't scared. If they were going to hurt her, they would've done it by now.

They lift her into their arms and she is still not afraid. Wherever they're taking her, it can't be much worse than it is now. She has nothing left to lose, so what the hell.

"Why?" she asks. One little question.

They don't say anything, but she falls asleep in their arms and somehow, somehow this feels like a beginning.

 


End file.
